' 


Cutting 

"Tl  ^^          I          Cx 


SAMUILG 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 


UJX1Y.  OK  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


In   Press 
By  the  Same  Author 

THE  FUN  OP  GETTING  THIN 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

HOW  TO  GET  ON  THE  WATERWAGON 
AND  STAY  THERE 


BY 

SAMUEL  G.  BLYTHE 


CHICAGO 
FORBES    &    COMPANY 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,   1911,   BY 
THE   CURTIS   PUBLISHING  CO. 


COPYRIGHT.      1912,      BY 
FORBES   AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Why  I  Quit 9 

II.     Howl  Quit 21 

III.  What  I  Quit 31 

IV.  When  I  Quit 45 

V.     After  I  Quit 57 


21261GI 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

This  work  originally  appeared 
in  The  Saturday  Evening  Post 
under  the  title  '  *  On  the  Water- 
Wagon." 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 


CHAPTER  I 
WHY  I  QUIT 

FIRST  off,  let  me  state  the  ob- 
ject of  the  meeting:  This  is 
to  be  a  record  of  sundry  experi- 
ences centering  round  a  stern  re- 
solve to  get  on  the  waterwagon 
and  a  sterner  attempt  to  stay  there. 
It  is  an  entirely  personal  narrative 
of  a  strictly  personal  set  of  circum- 
stances. It  is  not  a  temperance  lec- 
ture, or  a  temperance  tract,  or  a 
chunk  of  advice,  or  a  shuddering 
recital  of  the  woes  of  a  horrible  ex- 
9 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

ample,  or  a  warning,  or  an  admoni- 
tion— or  anything  at  all  but  a  plain 
tale  of  an  adventure  that  started 
out  rather  vaguely  and  wound  up 
rather  satisfactorily. 

I  am  no  brand  that  was  snatched 
from  the  burning;  no  sot  who 
picked  himself  or  was  picked  from 
the  gutter;  no  drunkard  who  al- 
most wrecked  a  promising  career; 
no  constitutional  or  congenital 
souse.  I  drank  liquor  the  same 
way  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men 
drink  it — drank  liquor  and  attend- 
ed to  my  business,  and  got  along 
well,  and  kept  my  health,  and  pro- 
vided for  my  family,  and  main- 
tained my  position  in  the  commu- 
nity. I  felt  I  had  a  perfect  right 
10 


WHY  I  QUIT 

to  drink  liquor  just  as  I  had  a  per- 
fect right  to  stop  drinking  it.  I 
never  considered  my  drinking  in 
any  way  immoral. 

I  was  decent,  respectable,  a  gen- 
tleman, who  drank  only  with  gen- 
tlemen and  as  a  gentleman  should 
drink  if  he  pleases.  I  didn't  care 
whether  any  one  else  drank — and 
do  not  now.  I  didn't  care  whether 
any  one  else  cared  whether  I  drank 
— and  do  not  now.  I  am  no  reform- 
er, no  lecturer,  no  preacher.  I  quit 
because  I  wanted  to,  not  because 
I  had  to.  I  didn't  swear  off,  nor 
take  any  vow,  nor  sign  any  pledge. 
I  am  no  moral  censor.  It  is  even 
possible  that  I  might  go  out  this 
afternoon  and  take  a  drink.  I  am 
11 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

quite  sure  I  shall  not — but  I  might. 
As  far  as  my  trip  into  Teetotal 
Land  is  concerned,  it  is  an  individ- 
ual proposition  and  nothing  else.  I 
am  no  example  for  other  men  who 
drink  as  much  as  I  did,  or  more, 
or  less — but  I  assume  my  experi- 
ences are  somewhat  typical,  for  I 
am  sure  my  drinking  was  very  typ- 
ical; and  a  recital  of  those  experi- 
ences and  the  conclusions  thereon 
is  what  is  before  the  house. 

I  quit  drinking  because  I  quit 
drinking.  I  had  a  very  fair  batting 
average  in  the  Booze  League  —  as 
good  as  I  thought  necessary;  and 
I  knew  if  I  stopped  when  my  rec- 
ord was  good  the  situation  would 
be  satisfactory  to  me,  whether  it 

12 


was  to  any  other  person  or  not. 
Moreover,  I  figured  it  out  that  the 
time  to  stop  drinking  was  when  it 
wasn't  necessary  to  stop — not  when 
it  was  necessary.  I  had  been  ob- 
serving during  the  twenty  years 
I  had  been  drinking,  more  or  less, 
and  I  had  known  a  good  many  men 
who  stopped  drinking  when  the 
doctors  told  them  to.  Furthermore, 
it  had  been  my  observation  that 
when  a  doctor  tells  a  man  to  stop 
drinking  it  usually  doesn't  make 
much  difference  whether  he  stops 
or  not.  In  a  good  many  cases  he 
might  just  as  well  keep  on  and  die 
happily,  for  he's  going  to  die  any- 
how; and  the  few  months  he  will 
grab  through  his  abstinence  will 
13 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

not  amount  to  anything  when  the 
miseries  of  that  abstinence  are  duly 
chalked  up  in  the  debit  column. 

Therefore,  applying  the  cold, 
hard  logic  of  the  situation  to  it, 
I  decided  to  beat  the  liquor  to  it. 

That  was  the  reason  for  stop- 
ping— purely  selfish,  personal,  in- 
dividual, and  not  concerned  with 
the  welfare  of  any  other  person  on 
earth  —  just  myself.  I  had  taken 
good  care  of  myself  physically  and 
I  knew  I  was  sound  everywhere.  I 
wasn't  sure  how  long  I  could  keep 
sound  and  continue  drinking.  So 
I  decided  to  stop  drinking  and  keep 
sound.  I  noticed  that  a  good  many 
men  of  the  same  age  as  myself  and 
the  same  habits  as  myself  were  be- 
14 


WHY  I  QUIT 

ginning  to  show  signs  of  wear  and 
tear.  A  number  of  them  blew  up 
with  various  disconcerting  mala- 
dies and  a  number  more  died.  Soon 
after  I  was  forty  years  of  age  I 
noticed  I  began  to  go  to  funerals 
oftener  than  I  had  been  doing — 
funerals  of  men  between  forty  and 
forty-five  I  had  known  socially  and 
convivially;  that  these  funerals  oc- 
curred quite  regularly,  and  that 
the  doctor's  certificate,  more  times 
than  not,  gave  Bright 's  Disease  and 
other  similar  diseases  in  the  cause- 
of-death  column.  All  of  these  fu- 
nerals were  of  men  who  were  good 
fellows,  and  we  mourned  their 
loss.  Also  we  generally  took  a  few 
drinks  to  their  memories. 

15 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

Then  came  a  time  when  this  fu- 
neral business  landed  on  me  like 
a  pile-driver.  Inside  of  a  year  four 
or  five  of  the  men  I  had  known 
best,  the  men  I  had  loved  best,  the 
men  who  had  been  my  real  friends 
and  my  companions,  died,  one  after 
another.  Also  some  other  friends 
developed  physical  derangements  I 
knew  were  directly  traceable  to  too 
much  liquor.  Both  the  deaths  and 
the  derangements  had  liquor  as 
a  contributing  if  not  as  a  direct 
cause.  Nobody  said  that,  of  course ; 
but  I  knew  it. 

So  I  held  a  caucus  with  myself. 
I  called  myself  into  convention  and 
discussed  the  proposition  some- 
what like  this: 

16 


WHY  I  QUIT 

"You  are  now  over  forty  years 
of  age.  You  are  sound  physically 
and  you  are  no  weaker  mentally 
than  you  have  always  been,  so  far 
as  can  be  discovered  by  the  out- 
side world.  You  have  had  a  lot 
of  fun,  much  of  it  complicated  with 
the  conviviality  that  comes  with 
drinking  and  much  of  it  not  so  com- 
plicated; but  you  have  done  your 
share  of  plain  and  fancy  drinking, 
and  it  hasn't  landed  you  yet.  There 
is  absolutely  no  nutriment  in  being 
dead.  That  gets  you  nothing  save 
a  few  obituary  notices  you  will 
never  see.  There  is  even  less  in 
being  sick  and  sidling  around  in 
everybody's  way.  It's  as  sure  as 
sunset,  if  you  keep  on  at  your  pres- 
17 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

ent  gait,  that  Mr.  John  Barleycorn 
will  land  you  just  as  he  has  landed 
a  lot  of  other  people  you  know  and 
knew.  There  are  two  methods  of 
procedure  open  to  you.  One  is  to 
keep  it  up  and  continue  having  the 
fun  you  think  you  are  having  and 
take  what  is  inevitably  coming  to 
you.  The  other  is  to  quit  it  while 
the  quitting  is  good  and  live  a  few 
more  years — that  may  not  be  so 
rosy,  but  probably  will  have  com- 
pensations." 

I  viewed  it  from  every  angle  I 
could  think  of.  I  knew  what  sort 
of  a  job  I  had  laid  out  to  tackle  if 
I  quit.  I  weighed  the  whole  thing 
in  my  mind  in  the  light  of  my  ac- 
quaintances, my  experiences,  my 
18 


position,  my  mode  of  life,  my  busi- 
ness. I  had  been  through  it  many 
times.  I  had  often  gone  on  the 
waterwagon  for  periods  varying 
in  length  from  three  days  to  three 
months.  I  wasn't  venturing  into 
any  uncharted  territory.  I  knew 
every  signpost,  every  crossroad, 
every  foot  of  the  ground.  I  knew 
the  difficulties  —  knew  them  by 
heart.  I  wasn't  deluding  myself 
with  any  assertions  of  superior 
will-power  or  superior  courage — 
or  superior  anything.  I  knew  I 
had  a  fixed  daily  habit  of  drinking, 
and  that  if  I  quit  drinking  I 
should  have  to  reorganize  the  en- 
tire works. 


19 


CHAPTER  H 
HOW  I  QUIT 

'T*  HIS  took  some  time.  I  didn't 
-••  dash  into  it.  I  had  done  that 
before,  and  had  dashed  out  again 
just  as  impetuously.  I  revolved 
the  matter  in  my  mind  for  some 
weeks.  Then  I  decided  to  quit. 
Then  I  did  quit.  Thereby  hangs 
this  tale. 

I  went  to  a  dinner  one  night  that 
was  a  good  dinner.  It  was  a  din- 
ner that  had  every  appurtenance 
that  a  good  dinner  should  have,  in- 
cluding the  best  things  to  drink 
that  could  be  obtained,  and  lash- 
21 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

ings  of  them.  I  proceeded  at  that 
dinner  just  as  I  had  proceeded  at 
scores  of  similar  dinners  in  my  time 
— hundreds  of  them,  I  guess — and 
took  a  drink  every  time  anybody 
else  did.  I  was  a  seasoned  drinker. 
I  knew  how  to  do  it.  I  went  home 
that  night  pleasantly  jingled,  but 
no  more.  I  slept  well,  ate  a  good 
breakfast  and  went  down  to  busi- 
ness. On  the  way  down  I  decided 
that  this  was  the  day  to  make  the 
plunge.  Having  arrived  at  that 
decision,  I  went  out  about  three 
o'clock  that  afternoon,  drank  a 
Scotch  highball — a  big,  man's-sized 
one — as  a  doch-an-doris,  and  quit. 
That  was  almost  a  year  ago.  I 
haven't  taken  a  drink  since.  It  is 

22 


HOW  I  QUIT 

not  my  present  intention  ever  to 
take  another  drink;  but  I  am  not 
tying  myself  down  by  any  vows. 
It  is  not  my  present  intention,  I 
say;  and  I  let  it  go  at  that. 

No  man  can  be  blamed  for  try- 
ing to  fool  other  people  about  him- 
self— that  is  the  way  most  of  us 
get  past;  but  what  can  be  said  for 
a  man  who  tries  to  fool  himself? 
Every  man  knows  exactly  how 
bogus  he  is  and  should  admit  it 
— to  himself  only.  The  man  who, 
knowing  his  bogusness,  refuses  to 
admit  it  to  himself  —  no  matter 
what  his  attitude  may  be  to  the 
outside  world  —  simply  stores  up 
trouble  for  himself,  and  discomfort 
and  much  else.  There  are  many 
23 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

phases  of  personal  understanding 
of  oneself  that  need  not  be  put  in 
the  newspapers  or  proclaimed  pub- 
licly. Still,  for  a  man  to  gold-brick 
himself  is  a  profitless  undertaking, 
but  prevalent  notwithstanding. 

When  it  comes  to  fooling  oneself 
by  oneself,  the  grandest  performers 
are  the  boys  who  have  a  habit — 
no  matter  what  kind  of  a  habit — 
a  habit!  It  may  be  smoking  cigar- 
ettes, or  walking  pigeontoed,  or 
talking  through  the  nose,  or  drink- 
ing— or  anything  else.  Any  man 
can  see  with  half  an  eye  how  drink- 
ing, for  example,  is  hurting  Jones; 
but  he  always  argues  that  his  own 
personal  drinking  is  of  a  different 
variety  and  is  doing  him  no  harm. 
24 


HOW  I  QUIT 

The  best  illustration  of  it  is  in  the 
old  vaudeville  story,  where  the  man 
came  on  the  stage  and  said: " Smith 
is  drinking  too  much!  I  never  go 
into  a  saloon  without  finding  him 
there !" 

That  is  the  reason  drinking  liq- 
uor gets  so  many  people — either  by 
wrecking  their  health  or  by  fasten- 
ing on  them  the  habit  they  cannot 
stop.  They  fool  themselves.  They 
are  perfectly  well  aware  that  their 
neighbors  are  drinking  too  much — 
but  not  themselves.  Far  be  it  from 
them  not  to  have  the  will-power  to 
stop  when  it  is  time  to  stop.  They 
are  smarter  than  their  neighbors. 
They  know  what  they  are  doing. 
And  suddenly  the  explosions  come!, 
25 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

There  are  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  men  in  all  walks  of  life  in  this 
country  who  for  twenty  or  thirty 
years  have  never  lived  a  minute 
when  there  was  not  more  or  less 
alcohol  in  their  systems,  who  can- 
not be  said  to  have  been  strictly 
and  entirely  sober  in  all  that  time, 
but  who  do  their  work,  perform  all 
their  social  duties,  make  their  ca- 
reers and  are  fairly  successful  just 
the  same. 

There  has  been  more  flub-dub 
printed  and  spoken  about  drink- 
ing liquor  than  about  any  other 
employment,  avocation,  vocation, 
habit,  practice  or  pleasure  of  man- 
kind. Drinking  liquor  is  a  per- 
sonal proposition,  and  nothing  else. 
26 


HOW  I  QUIT 

It  is  individual  in  every  human  re- 
lation. Still,  you  cannot  make  the 
reformers  see  that.  They  want 
other  people  to  stop  drinking  be- 
cause they  want  other  people  to 
stop.  So  they  make  laws  that  are 
violated,  and  get  pledges  that  are 
broken  and  try  to  legislate  or 
preach  or  coax  or  scare  away  a 
habit  that  must,  in  any  successful 
outcome,  be  stopped  by  the  indi- 
vidual, and  not  because  of  any  law 
or  threat  or  terror  or  cajolery. 

This  is  the  human-nature  side  of 
it,  but  the  professional  reformers 
know  less  about  human  nature,  and 
care  less,  than  about  any  other 
phase  of  life.  Still,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  with  any  habit,  and  es- 

27 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

pecially  with  the  liquor  habit  — 
probably  because  that  is  the  most 
prevalent  habit  there  is  —  nine- 
tenths  of  the  subjects  delude  them- 
selves about  how  much  of  a  habit 
they  have;  and,  second,  that  nine- 
tenths  of  those  with  the  habit  have 
a  very  clear  idea  of  the  extent  to 
which  the  habit  is  fastened  on 
others.  They  are  fooled  about 
themselves,  but  never  about  their 
neighbors!  Wherefore  the  brew- 
eries and  the  distilleries  prosper 
exceedingly. 

However,  I  am  straying  away 
from  my  story,  which  has  to  do 
with  such  drinking  as  the  ordi- 
nary man  does — not  sprees,  nor  de- 
bauches, or  orgies,  or  periodicals, 

28 


HOW  I  QUIT 

or  drunkenness,  but  just  the  ordi- 
nary amount  of  drinking  that  hap- 
pens along  in  a  man's  life,  with  a 
little  too  much  on  rare  occasions 
and  plenty  at  all  times.  A  German 
I  knew  once  told  me  the  difference 
between  Old- World  drinking  and 
American  drinking  was  that  the 
German,  for  example,  drinks  for 
the  pleasure  of  the  drink,  while  the 
American  drinks  for  the  alcohol  in 
it.  That  may  be  so;  but  very  few 
men  who  have  any  sense  or  any 
age  set  out  deliberately  to  get 
drunk.  Such  drunkenness  as  there 
is  among  men  of  that  sort  usually 
comes  more  by  accident  than  by 
design. 

My  definition  of  a  drunkard  has 
29 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

always  been  this :  A  man  is  a  drunk- 
ard when  he  drinks  whisky  or  any 
other  liquor  before  breakfast.  I 
think  that  is  pretty  nearly  right. 
Personally  I  never  took  a  drink  of 
liquor  before  breakfast  in  my  life 
and  not  many  before  noon.  Usually 
my  drinking  began  in  the  afternoon 
after  business,  and  was  likely  to 
end  before  dinnertime — not  always, 
but  usually. 


30 


CHAPTER  III 
WHAT  I  QUIT 

I  HAD  been  drinking  thus  for 
practically  twenty  years.  I  did 
not  drink  at  all  until  after  I  was 
twenty-one  and  not  much  until 
after  I  was  twenty-five.  When  I 
got  to  be  thirty-two  or  thirty-three 
and  had  gone  along  a  little  in  the 
world,  I  fell  in  with  men  of  my  own 
station;  and  as  I  lived  in  a  town 
where  nearly  everybody  drank,  in- 
cluding many  of  the  successful 
business  and  professional  men  — 
men  of  affairs  —  I  soon  got  into 
their  habits.  Naturally  gregarious, 
31 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

I  found  these  men  good  company. 
They  were  sociable  and  convivial, 
and  drank  for  the  fun  of  it  and  the 
fun  that  came  out  of  it. 

My  business  took  me  to  various 
parts  of  the  country  and  I  made  ac- 
quaintances among  men  like  these 
— the  real  live  ones  in  the  communi- 
ties. They  were  good  fellows.  So 
was  I.  The  result  was  that  in  a 
few  years  I  had  a  list  of  friends 
from  California  to  Maine  —  all  of 
whom  drank;  and  I  was  never  at 
a  loss  for  company  or  highballs. 
Then  I  moved  to  a  city  where  there 
isn't  much  of  anything  else  to  do 
but  drink  at  certain  times  in  the 
day,  a  city  where  men  from  all 
parts  of  the  country  congregate 
32 


WHAT  I  QUIT 

and  where  the  social  side  of  life  is 
highly  accentuated.  I  kept  along 
with  the  procession.  I  did  my  work 
sat  jp&JffiSEly  to  my  employers  and 
satisfactorily  to 


?ms  continued  for  several  years, 
had^a  fixed  habit.    I  drank  sev- 


CM  drinks  each  day.  Sometimes 
I  oj(mjt/mfre  than  several.  My 
system  S&ls ^organized  to  digest 
about  sJrVmuch  alcohol  every 
twenty-four  *Bjburs.  So  far  as  I 
could  see,  th^ranking  did  me  no 
harm.  I  was  w^!|L  My  appetite 
was  good.  I  slept N^oundly.  My 
head  was  clear.  My  wofck^proceed- 
ed  easily  and  was  getting  fair  rec- 
ognition. Then  some  of  the  boys 
33 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

began  dropping  off  and  some  began 
breaking  down.  I  had  occasional 
mornings,  after  big  dinners  or  spe- 
cially convivial  affairs,  when  I  did 
not  feel  very  well — when  I  was  out 
of  tune  and  knew  why.  Still,  I 
continued  as  of  old,  and  thought 
nothing  of  it  except  as  the  regular 
katzenjammer — to  be  expected. 

Presently  I  woke  up  to  what  was 
happening  round  me.  I  looked  the 
game  over  critically.  I  analyzed  it 
coldly  and  calmly.  I  put  every  ad- 
vantage of  my  mode  of  life  on  one 
side  and  every  disadvantage;  and 
I  put  on  the  other  side  every  dis- 
advantage of  a  change  in  procedure 
and  every  advantage.  There  were 
times  when  I  thought  the  present 
34 


WHAT  I  QUIT 

mode  had  by  far  the  better  of  it, 
and  times  when  the  change  con- 
templated outweighed  the  other 
heavily. 

Here  is  the  way  it  totted  up 
against  quitting:  Practically  every 
friend  you  have  in  the  United 
States  —  and  youVe  got  a  lot  of 
them  —  drinks  more  or  less.  You 
have  not  cultivated  any  other  line 
of  associates.  If  you  quit  drink- 
ing, you  will  necessarily  have  to 
quit  a  lot  of  these  friends,  and  quit 
their  parties  and  company — for  a 
man  who  doesn't  drink  is  always  a 
death's-head  at  a  feast  or  merry- 
making where  drinking  is  going  on. 
Your  social  intercourse  with  these 
people  is  predicated  on  taking  an 
35 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

occasional  drink,  in  going  to  places 
where  drinks  are  served,  both  pub- 
lie  and  at  homes.  The  kind  of 
drinking  you  do  makes  greatly  for 
sociability,  and  you  are  a  sociable 
person  and  like  to  be  round  with 
congenial  people.  You  will  miss  a 
lot  of  fun,  a  lot  of  good,  clever  com- 
panionship, for  you  are  too  old  to 
form  a  new  line  of  friends.  Your 
whole  game  is  organized  along 
these  lines.  Why  make  a  hermit 
of  yourself  just  because  you  think 
drinking  may  harm  you?  Cut  it 
down.  Take  care  of  yourself .  Don't 
be  such  a  fool  as  to  try  to  change 
your  manner  of  living  just  when 
you  have  an  opportunity  to  live  as 


36 


WHAT  I  QUIT 

you  should  and  enjoy  what  is  com- 
ing to  you. 

This  is  the  way  it  lined  up  for 
quitting:  So  far,  liquor  hasn't  done 
anything  to  you  except  cause  you 
to  waste  some  time  that  might  have 
been  otherwise  employed;  but  it 
will  get  you,  just  as  it  has  landed 
a  lot  of  your  friends,  if  you  stay 
by  it.  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to 
miss  some  of  this  stuff  you  have 
come  to  think  of  as  fun,  and  live 
longer?  There  is  no  novelty  in 
drinking  to  you.  You  haven't  an 
appetite  that  cannot  be  checked, 
but  you  will  have  if  you  stick  to  it 
much  longer.  Why  not  quit  and 
take  a  chance  at  a  new  mode  of 


37 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

living,  especially  when  you  know 
absolutely  that  every  health  rea- 
son, every  future-prospect  reason, 
every  atom  of  good  sense  in  you, 
tells  you  there  is  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  keeping  at  it,  and  that 
all  may  be  lost  ? 

Well,  I  pondered  over  that  a  long 
time.  I  had  watched  miserable 
wretches  who  had  struggled  to  stay 
on  the  waterwagon  —  sometimes 
with  amusement.  I  knew  what 
they  had  to  stand  if  they  tried  to 
associate  with  their  former  com- 
panions; I  knew  the  apparent  diffi- 
culties and  the  disadvantages  of 
this  new  mode  of  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  was  convinced  that,  so  far 
as  I  was  concerned,  without  trying 

38 


WHAT  I  QUIT 

to  lay  down  a  rule  for  any  other 
man,  I  would  be  an  ass  if  I  didn't 
quit  it  immediately,  while  I  was 
well  and  all  right,  instead  of  wait- 
ing until  I  had  to  quit  on  a  doctor's 
orders,  or  got  to  that  stage  when  I 
couldn't  quit. 

It  was  no  easy  thing  to  make  the 
decision.  It  is  hard  to  change  the 
habits  and  associations  of  twenty 
years!  I  had  a  good  understanding 
of  myself.  I  was  no  hero.  I  liked 
the  fun  of  it,  the  companionship  of 
it,  better  than  any  one.  I  like  my 
friends  and,  I  hope  and  think,  they 
like  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
needed  it  in  my  business,  for  I  was 
always  dealing  with  men  who  did 
drink. 

39 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

I  wrestled  with  it  for  some 
weeks.  I  thought  it  all  out,  up 
one  side  and  down  the  other.  Then 
I  quit.  Also  I  stayed  quit.  And 
believe  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen 
and  all  others  present,  it  was  no 
fool  of  a  job. 

I  have  learned  many  things  since 
I  went  on  the  waterwagon  for  fair 
— many  things  about  my  f  ellowmen 
and  many  things  about  myself. 
Most  of  these  things  radiate  round 
the  innate  hypocrisy  of  the  human 
being.  All  those  that  do  not  con- 
cern his  hypocrisy  concern  his  lying 
— which,  I  reckon,  when  you  come 
to  stack  them  up  together,  amounts 
to  the  same  thing.  I  have  learned 
that  I  had  been  fooling  myself  and 
40 


.WHAT  I  QUIT 

that  others  had  been  fooling  me. 
I  gathered  experience  every  day. 
And  some  of  the  things  I  have 
learned  I  shall  set  down. 

You  have  all  known  the  man  who 
says  he  quit  drinking  and  never 
thought  of  drink  again.  He  is  a 
liar.  He  doesn't  exist.  No  man  in 
this  world  who  had  a  daily  habit 
of  drinking  ever  quit  and  never 
thought  of  drinking  again.  Many 
men,  because  they  habitually  lie  to 
themselves,  think  they  have  done 
this;  but  they  haven't.  The  fact 
is,  no  man  with  a  daily  habit  of 
drinking  ever  quit  and  thought  of 
anything  else  than  how  good  a 
drink  would  taste  and  feel  for  a 
time  after  he  quit.  He  couldn't  and 
41 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

he  didn't.  I  don't  care  what  any  of 
them  say.  I  know. 

Further,  the  man  who  tells  you 
he  never  takes  a  drink  until  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  or  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  or  only 
drinks  with  his  meals,  or  only 
takes  two  or  three  drinks  a  day, 
usually  is  a  liar,  too — not  always, 
but  usually.  There  are  some  ma- 
chine-like, non-imaginative  persons 
who  can  do  this — drink  by  rote  or 
by  rule;  but  not  many.  Now  I  do 
not  say  many  men  do  not  think 
they  drink  this  way,  but  most  of 
these  men  are  simply  f  ooling  them- 
selves. 

Again,  this  proposition  of  cut- 
ting down  drinks  to  two  or  three 

42 


WHAT  I  QUIT 

a  day  is  all  rot.  Of  what  use  to 
any  person  are  two  or  three  drinks 
a  day?  I  mean  to  any  person  who 
drinks  for  the  fun  of  it,  as  I  did 
and  as  most  of  my  friends  do  yet. 
What  kind  of  a  human  being  is  he 
who  comes  into  a  club  and  takes 
one  cocktail  and  no  more? — or  one 
highball?  He's  worse,  from  any 
view-point  of  sociability,  than  a 
man  who  drinks  a  glass  of  water. 
At  least  the  man  who  drinks  the 
water  isn't  fooling  himself  or  try- 
ing to  be  part  one  thing  and  part 
another.  The  way  to  quit  drinking  \ 
is  to  quit  drinking.  That  is  all  the 
is  to  that.  This  paltering  along 
with  two  or  three  drinks  a  day  is 
mere  cowardice.  It  is  neither  one 

43 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

thing  nor  the  other.  And  I  am  here 
to  say,  also,  that  nine  out  of  every 
ten  men  who  say  they  only  take 
two  or  three  drinks  a  day  are  liars, 
just  the  same  as  the  men  who  say 
they  quit  and  never  think  of  it 
again.  They  may  not  think  they 
are  liars,  or  intend  to  be  liars;  but 
they  are  liars  just  the  same. 

Well,  as  I  may  have  intimated,  I 
quit  drinking.  I  drank  that  last, 
lingering  Scotch  highball  —  and 
quit!  I  decided  the  no-liquor  end 
of  it  was  the  better  end,  and  I  took 
that  end. 


CHAPTER  IV 
WHEN  I  QUIT 

FOR  purposes  of  comprehensive 
record  I  have  divided  the  va- 
rious stages  of  my  waterwagon- 
ing  into  these  parts:  the  obsession 
stage;  the  caramel  stage ;  thephar- 
isaical  stage,  and  the  safe-and-sane 
stage.  I  drank  my  Scotch  highball 
and  went  over  to  the  club.  The 
crowd  was  there;  I  sat  down  at  a 
table  and  when  somebody  asked  me 
what  I'd  have  I  took  a  glass  of 
water.  Several  of  my  friends  looked 
inquiringly  at  me  and  one  asked: 
"On  the  wagon?"  This  attracted 
45 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

the  attention  of  the  entire  group 
to  my  glass  of  water.  I  came  in  for 
a  good  deal  of  banter,  mostly  along 
the  line  that  it  was  time  I  went  on 
the  wagon.  This  was  varied  with 
predictions  that  I  would  stay  on 
from  an  hour  to  a  day  or  so.  I 
didn't  like  that  talk,  but  I  bluffed 
it  out — weakly,  to  be  sure.  I  said 
I  had  decided  it  wouldn't  do  me  any 
harm  to  cool  out  a  bit. 

Next  day,  along  about  first-drink 
time,  I  felt  a  craving  for  a  highball. 
I  didn't  take  it.  That  evening  I 
went  over  to  the  club  again.  The 
crowd  was  there.  I  was  asked  to 
have  a  drink.  This  time  I  rather 
defiantly  ordered  a  glass  of  water. 
The  same  jests  were  made,  but  I 
46 


WHEN  I  QUIT 

drank  my  water.  On  the  third  day 
I  was  a  bit  shaky — sort  of  nervous. 
I  didn't  feel  like  work.  I  couldn't 
concentrate  my  mind  on  anything. 
I  kept  thinking  of  various  kinds  of 
drinks  and  how  good  they  would 
taste.  I  tried  out  the  club.  I  may 
have  imagined  it,  but  I  thought  my 
old  friends  lacked  interest  in  my 
advent  at  the  table.  One  of  them 
said:  "Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  take 
a  drink!  You've  got  a  terrible 
grouch  on."  I  backed  out. 

I  did  have  a  grouch.  I  was  sore 
at  everybody  in  the  world.  Also, 
I  kept  thinking  how  much  I  would 
like  to  have  a  drink.  That  was  nat- 
ural. I  had  accustomed  my  system 
to  digest  a  certain  amount  of  alco- 
47 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

hol  every  day.  I  wasn't  supplying 
that  alcohol.  My  system  needed  it 
and  howled  for  it.  I  knew  a  man 
who  had  been  a  drunkard  but  who 
had  quit  and  who  hadn't  taken  a 
drink  for  twelve  years.  I  discussed 
the  problem  with  him.  He  told  me 
an  eminent  specialist  had  told  him 
it  takes  eighteen  months  for  a  man 
who  has  been  a  heavy  drinker  or 
a  steady  drinker  to  get  all  the  alco- 
hol out  of  his  system.  I  hadn't  been 
a  heavy  drinker,  but  I  had  been  a 
steady  drinker;  and  that  informa- 
tion gave  me  a  cold  chill.  I  thought 
if  I  were  to  have  this  craving  for 
a  drink  every  day  for  eighteen 
months,  surely  I  had  let  myself  in 
for  a  lovely  task  I 

48 


WHEN  I  QUIT 

I  stuck  for  a  week  —  for  two 
weeks  —  for  three  weeks.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  my  friends  had 
grown  accustomed  to  this  idiosyn- 
crasy and  were  making  bets  on  how 
long  I  would  last.  I  didn't  go 
round  where  they  were  much.  I 
was  as  lonesome  as  a  stray  dog  in 
a  strange  alley.  I  had  carefully 
cultivated  a  large  line  of  drinking 
acquaintances  and  I  hardly  knew  a 
congenial  person  who  didn't  drink. 
That  was  the  hardest  part  of  the 
game.  I  wasn't  fit  company  for 
man  or  beast.  I  don't  blame  my 
friends — not  a  bit.  I  was  cross  and 
ugly  and  hypercritical  and  gener- 
ally nasty,  and  they  passed  me  up. 
However,  the  craving  for  liquor 
49 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

decreased  to  some  degree.  There 
were  some  periods  in  the  day  when 
I  didn't  think  how  good  a  drink 
would  taste,  and  did  devote  myself 
to  my  work. 

I  discovered  a  few  things.  One 
was  that,  no  matter  how  much  fun 
I  missed  in  the  evening,  I  didn't 
get  up  with  a  taste  in  my  mouth. 
I  had  no  katzen jammers.  After  a 
week  or  so  I  went  to  sleep  easily 
and  slept  like  a  child.  Then  the 
caramel  stage  arrived.  I  acquired 
a  sudden  craving  for  candy.  I 
had  not  eaten  any  candy  for 
years,  for  men  who  drink  regu- 
larly rarely  take  sweets.  One  day 
I  looked  in  a  confectioner's  win- 
dow and  was  irresistibly  attracted 

50 


WHEN  I  QUIT 

by  a  box  of  caramels.  I  went  in 
and  bought  it,  and  ate  half  a 
dozen.  They  seemed  to  fill  a  long- 
felt  want.  The  sugar  in  them  sup- 
plied the  stimulant  that  was  lack- 
ing, I  suppose.  Anyhow,  they  tast- 
ed right  good  and  were  satisfac- 
tory; and  I  kept  a  box  of  caramels 
on  my  desk  for  several  weeks  and 
ate  a  few  each  day.  Also  I  began 
to  yell  for  ice  cream  and  pie  and 
other  sweets  with  my  meals. 

Along  about  this  time  I  devel- 
oped the  pharisaical  stage.  I  looked 
with  a  great  pity  on  my  friends  who 
persisted  in  drinking.  I  assumed 
some  little  airs  of  superiority  and 
congratulated  myself  on  my  great 
will-power  that  had  enabled  me  to 
51 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

quit  drinking.  They  were  steadily 
drinking  themselves  to  death.  I 
could  see  that  plainly.  There  was 
nothing  else  to  it.  I  was  a  fine  sam- 
ple of  a  full-blown  prig.  I  went  so 
far  as  to  explain  the  case  to  one  or 
two,  and  I  got  hooted  at  for  my 
pains;  so  I  lapsed  into  my  condi- 
tion of  immense  superiority  and 
said:  "Oh,  well,  if  they  won't  take 
advice  from  me,  who  knows,  let 
them  go  along.  Poor  chaps,  I  am 
afraid  they  are  lost!" 

It's  a  wonder  somebody  didn't 
take  an  ax  to  me.  I  deserved  it. 
After  lamenting  —  to  myself  —  the 
sad  fates  of  my  former  companions 
and  pluming  myself  on  my  noble 
course,  I  woke  up  one  day  and 
52 


WHEN  I  QUIT 

kicked  myself  round  the  park. 
"Here!"  I  said.  "You  chump, 
what  business  have  you  got  put- 
ting on  airs  about  your  non-drink- 
ing and  parading  yourself  round 
here  as  a  giant  example  of  self- 
restraint?  Where  do  you  get  off 
as  a  preacher — or  a  censor,  or  a  re- 
former— in  this  matter?  Who  ap- 
pointed you  as  the  apostle  of  non- 
drinking?  Take  a  tumble  to  your- 
self and  close  up!" 

That  was  the  beginning  of  the 
safe-and-sane  stage,  which  still  per- 
sists. It  came  about  the  end  of  the 
second  month.  I  had  lost  all  desire 
for  liquor;  and,  though  there  were 
times  when  I  missed  the  sociabil- 
ity of  drinking  fearfully,  I  was  as 

53 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

steady  as  a  rock  in  my  policy  of 
abstaining  from  drinks  of  all  kinds. 
Now  it  doesn't  bother  me  at  all.  I 
am  riding  jauntily  on  the  wagon, 
without  a  chance  of  falling  off. 

At  the  time  I  decided  it  was  up 
to  me  to  stop  this  pharisaical  fool- 
ishness, I  took  a  new  view  of 
things;  decided  I  wasn't  so  much, 
after  all;  ceased  reprobating  my 
friends  who  wanted  to  drink;  had 
no  advice  to  offer,  and  stopped 
pointing  to  myself  as  a  heroic 
young  person  who  had  accom- 
plished a  gigantic  task. 

Friends  had  tolerated  me.  I  won- 
dered that  they  had,  for  I  was  a  sad 
affair.  Surely  it  was  up  to  me  to  be 
as  tolerant  as  they  had  been,  not- 
54 


WHEN  I  QUIT 

withstanding  my  new  mode  of  life. 
So  I  stopped  foreboding  and  tried 
to  accustom  my  friends  to  my  com- 
pany on  a  strictly  water  basis.  The 
attempt  was  not  entirely  success- 
ful. I  dropped  out  of  a  good  many 
gatherings  where  formerly  I  should 
have  been  one  of  the  bright  and 
shining  lights.  There  are  no  two 
ways  about  it — a  man  cannot  drink 
water  in  a  company  where  others 
are  drinking  highballs  and  get  into 
the  game  with  any  effectiveness. 
Any  person  who  quits  drinking 
may  as  well  accept  that  as  a  fact; 
and  most  persons  will  stop  trying 
after  a  time  and  seek  new  diver- 
sions; or  begin  drinking  again. 


55 


i 


CHAPTER  V 
AFTER  I  QUIT 

HAD  a  good  lively  tilt  with  John 
Barleycorn,  ranging  over  twen- 
ty years.  I  know  all  about  drink- 
ing. I  figured  it  this  way:  I  have 
about  fifteen  more  good,  productive 
years  in  me.  After  that  I  shall  lose 
in  efficiency,  even  if  I  keep  my 
health.  Being  selfish  and  perhaps 
getting  sensible,  I  desire  the  re- 
maining productive  years  of  my 
life  to  be  years  of  the  greatest 
efficiency.  Looking  back  over  my 
drinking  years,  I  saw,  if  I  was  to 
attain  and  keep  that  greatest  effi- 
57 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

ciency,  that  was  my  job,  and  that 
it  could  not  be  complicated  with 
any  booze-fighting  whatsoever. 

I  decided  that  what  I  might  lose 
in  the  companionship  and  social 
end  of  it  I  would  gain  in  my  own 
personal  increase  in  horsepower; 
for  I  knew  that  though  drinking 
may  have  done  me  no  harm,  it  cer- 
tainly did  me  no  good,  and  that,  if 
persisted  in,  it  surely  would  do  me 
harm  in  some  way  or  other. 

Sizing  it  up,  one  side  against  the 
other,  I  conclude  that  it  is  better 
for  me  not  to  drink.  I  find  I  have 
much  more  time  that  I  can  devote 
to  my  business;  that  I  think  more 
clearly,  feel  better,  do  not  make 
any  loose  statements  under  the  ex- 
58 


AFTEE  I  QUIT 

hilaration  of  alcohol,  and  keep  my 
mind  on  my  number  constantly. 
The  item  of  time  is  the  surprising 
item.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
time  you  have  to  do  things  in  that 
formerly  you  used  to  drink  in,  with 
the  accompaniment  of  all  the  piffle 
that  goes  with  drinking!  When 
you  are  drinking  you  are  never  too 
busy  to  take  a  drink  and  never  too 
busy  not  to  stop.  You  are  busy  all 
the  time — but  get  nowhere.  Work 
is  the  curse  of  the  drinking  classes. 
Any  man  who  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  do  the  kind  of  drinking 
I  did  for  twenty  years,  who  likes 
the  sociability  and  the  companion- 
ship of  it,  will  find  that  the  sudden 

transition  to  a  non-drinking  life 
59 


CUTTING  IT  OUT 

will  leave  him  with  a  pretty  dull 
existence  on  his  hands  until  he  gets 
reorganized.  This  is  the  depress- 
ing part  of  it.  You  have  nowhere 
to  go  and  nothing  to  do.  Still, 
though  you  may  miss  the  fun  of 
the  evening,  you  have  all  your 
drinking  friends  lashed  to  the  mast 
in  the  morning. 


By  the  Same  Author 


THE  FUN 
OF  GETTING  THIN 

ANOTHER  delightful  book  by  Mr. 
Blythe,  in  which  he  discusses  surplus 
avoirdupois.  It  tells  fat  people  how 
to  get  thin,  and  thin  people  will 
get  fat  laughing  over  its  delicious 
humor. 

Some  extracts  from  the  book 

"A  fat  man  is  a  joke;  and  a  fat 
woman  is  two  jokes — one  on  herself  and 
the  other  on  her  husband." 

' '  Half  the  comedy  in  the  world  is  pred- 
icated on  the  paunch." 

"Fat,  the  doctors  say,  is  fatal.  I 
move  to  amend  by  striking  out  the  last 
two  letters  of  the  indictment.  Fat  ia 
fat." 

Attractively  bound.     Price,  35c 

For  sale  wherever  books  are  sold  or  sup- 
plied by  the  publishers 


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